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Mark Ritson on branding: Norse fire smokes out bland brands

Four years ago Belinda Williams decided to combine her experiences as a caterer, entrepreneur and farmer's daughter to launch the Yorkshire Soup Company.

While most soup companies are content with globally sourced, frozen
ingredients and mass production, the Yorkshire Soup Company uses only
fresh British vegetables and herbs that are hand-cooked in their
Melmerby kitchen. The company also uses an ancient brand tactic that
appears to be back on the agenda.

On each of its translucent pots of soup, the company includes a
photograph of one of its local suppliers. On its tomato soup, for
example, you will find a photograph of Derek, a rather
embarrassed-looking dairy farmer, who made the Wensleydale cheese that
forms one of the soup's surprise ingredients.

Alternatively, on its carrot and celeriac pot, you will find Rachel, a
grower at Jack Buck, the company that supplied the celeriac, standing in
one of the fields in which the vegetables were grown.

It may not sound like much, but trust me, when you finally encounter one
of these pots in a supermarket, the packaging will stop you in your
tracks. In aisles full of banal logos, the proud smile of a local
producer stands out a mile.

The origin of the term brand comes from brandr, the Norse word for
fire.

It means to burn the mark of the producer onto the product that they
made.

The bland brands that have dominated the supermarket shelves for the
past century have gradually moved away from the original, authentic
meaning of brand and toward a global, homogeneous, meaningless
interpretation.

These brands were created by design agencies, tested by researchers and
positioned by agencies to be aspirational. They are whatever you want
them to be. Just don't ask how or where they were made, or by whom.

Take Northern Foods as an example. If it copied the packaging style of
the Yorkshire Soup Company, its pies would show anonymous shift workers
wearing headphones on a production line.

Northern Foods creates bland, soulless food using brand names such as
Dalepak, San Marco and Pork Farms. There is no seasonality, no
provenance, no passion in a Dalepak burger. San Marco pizza may sound
Italian, but it is actually manufactured in an Irish factory. Pork Farms
is located on an industrial estate outside Nottingham.

If approved, GI status would mean that a Melton Mowbray pie could only
be made from fresh, chopped pork with no MSG, and baked in the
traditional manner no more than 60 miles from the town of Melton in
Leicestershire.

Northern Foods objected to the award of GI status partly because of
self-interest (it had manufactured 25% of the UK's Melton Mowbray pies),
but mostly because it doesn't seem to understand real branding.
Fortunately, the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs and
the courts do, and its objections were rejected late last year.

Northern Foods company secretary Carol Williams claimed the decision was
a 'sad day for common sense' and asked where it would all end. 'Will you
only be allowed to buy Eccles cakes produced in Eccles or Chelsea buns
made in the heart of Chelsea?' she wondered.

Yes, Ms Williams, hopefully one day you will. Eighteen more British
applications for GI protection are being considered and branding in 2006
is starting to take on a decidedly Norse feel once again.

Brand heritage is returning to the fore. For firms such as the Yorkshire
Soup Company, things are warming up nicely. For the likes of Northern
Foods, it is time to get used to the taste of humble pie.

30 SECONDS ON ... GI STATUS

- The EU Protected Graphical Indication System came into force in
1993.

- There are currently 720 foods protected by the GI system; 300 more are
under consideration.